Wedding Party Collection: Once A Bridesmaid...: Here Comes the Bridesmaid / Falling for the Bridesmaid. GINA WILKINS

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      ‘Sunshine,’ he said softly, ‘death is not staring me in the face. I’m not a teenage hothead burning up the road. I’m thirty. And I’m careful.’

      ‘What if someone not so careful knocks you off?’

      ‘Is that what happened? Did someone run your sister down?’

      She shook her head, looking as if she would burst from frustration. ‘No. She was going too fast. Missed the corner.’

      Leo ran a hand over his head. Tried to find something to say. He was scared to open his mouth in case he promised her that, yes, he would give up the one carefree thing he allowed himself. They’d known each other for one week: she couldn’t really care—had said she wouldn’t care. And he would not be seduced into sacrificing his bike by the thought that she did.

      ‘Look,’ he started, and then stopped, ran a hand over his head again. ‘It’s not your job, Sunshine, to worry about me.’

      ‘But I do worry about you. Please, Leo.’

      There was a loud crashing sound from the kitchen. ‘I have to check that.’ Leo got to his feet, but then he paused, looking down at her. ‘I shouldn’t have started this. Not here, where there are too many distractions. Go home, and we’ll pick it up another time.’

      ‘I’m eating here tonight,’ Sunshine said. ‘And, no, I am not turning into a stalker. I have a date. Iain.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘The hairdresser? The ex, who’s now just a friend?’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘As long as it is ex. Because while you and I are sleeping together—even if it is only four times—there isn’t going to be anyone else in the picture. Got it? I’m not into sharing.’ He heard the words come out of his mouth but couldn’t quite believe they had. Okay, so he’d changed his mind and sex was back on, apparently.

      ‘Well, of course!’ Sunshine said. ‘Actually, the main reason I asked him to come tonight was to check your head.’

      ‘Check my head?’ Leo repeated, not getting it.

      ‘To make sure it’s going to be long enough—not your head, because obviously that’s not growing any more, but your hair.’

      ‘He is not checking my head, Sunshine.’

      That damned nose-wrinkle. ‘But I think—’

      ‘No,’ Leo said, and strode into the kitchen.

      Where he burst out laughing and stopped half the staff in their tracks.

      ‘What?’ he asked.

      But nobody was brave enough to answer.

      * * *

      Sunshine did not enjoy dinner.

      Not that the food wasn’t great—because who couldn’t love a Wagyu beef burger with Stilton, and chilli salt fries on the side?

      And Iain had brought sketches of the most fabulous hairstyle for the wedding. Finger waves pinned at the base of the neck and secured with a gorgeous hairclip. Her fringe would be swept aside—please let it be long enough—and similarly clipped above her ear.

      But neither the food nor the sketches was enough to take her mind off that damned motorbike, and the fact that Leo, who was so sensible, didn’t seem to understand that it had to go.

      So she fumed. And, because she’d always supposed she didn’t carry the fuming gene, the unwelcome evidence that she could get as wound up as a garden variety maniac bothered her.

      They’d had sex. That didn’t mean she had a hold over him, of course, but it made him...well...someone more important than a casual acquaintance.

      She became aware that Iain was sing-songing her name softly from across the table and snapped her attention back to where it should have been all night.

      ‘That’s better,’ he said.

      ‘Sorry, Iain. I haven’t been good company tonight.’

      ‘You’re always good company, Sunny.’

      She smiled at him. ‘You’re too nice.’

      ‘Nice?’ He gave a short, almost bitter laugh. ‘Was that the limiter?’

      ‘What? No!’ She looked at him, dismayed. ‘The problem was—is always—that I just don’t want...that.’

      ‘Someone’s going to change your mind, Sunny—and all of us who have been forced to accept the limit are going to be mighty annoyed.’

      All of us? Good Lord! ‘You make it sound like there’s a zombie camp of men out there, slavishly doing my bidding! And nobody is going to get annoyed—because I’m not changing my mind, ever. And I also happen to know you’re dating Louise, so— Oh!’

      She stopped abruptly. Stared past Iain.

      Because Natalie Clarke, accompanied by a pretty guy vaguely familiar as a model—Rob-something—was being seated at the next table.

      Natalie was stunning. Gold skin, glorious copper hair, perfect rosebud mouth, pale grey eyes. She was super-slender, wearing a tight black leather skirt and a cropped black jacket. Black suede boots that made Sunshine green with envy.

      Natalie shrugged out of her jacket to reveal a teensy white top; a black demi-bra was clearly visible underneath.

      Iain’s eyes went straight to the mother lode!

      Sunshine, swallowing a laugh, kicked Iain under the table. Bolt-ons, she mouthed at him.

      So? He mouthed back, and the laugh erupted after all.

      Natalie, venom in her grey eyes, looked sharply, suspiciously, over at Sunshine and Iain.

      Oh. That was just nasty. Imagine if Natalie ever got wind of what she’d done with Leo last night! Crime scene for sure—blood spatter, flayed flesh, ooze, and poison, and possibly a meat cleaver in there as well!

      Then Sunshine noticed the tattooed butterflies flitting down Natalie’s arms, and laughed again before she could stop herself.

      Oops. Extra venom. And not much of a sense of humour, obviously.

      Sunshine shifted her attention back to Iain and made a valiant effort to ignore Natalie—but it was impossible not to hear the overly loud one-way conversation from Natalie to Rob-the-model. All about Leo!

      Blah-blah...so boring that Leo never, ever cooked for people outside his restaurants. Ha! Prosciutto fettuccine, anyone? Blah-blah...swank parties with Leo. Blah-blah...celebrities she and Leo had met. Blah-blah...she and Leo, part of the scene. And who said ‘the scene’ with a straight face? Blah-blah, blah-blah!

      Natalie was pushing food around her plate as she talked; Rob was at least eating, but he was also smirking. СКАЧАТЬ